An Orange

Betwixt and between the day and night
Sandwiched cleverly by time
I find myself contemplating
The meaning of my life and death.
Not in a morbid way you understand
Rather as a philosopher
Weighing up each separated segment
An orange of unusual hue.
Firstly perceive the rind
The outer crust of no import
Perhaps only useful grated
Flavoring a cordial or cake.
Notice the skin of neutral taste
Protecting the juicy flesh
Pare away and all becomes liquid
Without form or texture.
Bite through that gossamer form
Sink teeth into the matter
Taste the sharpness and sweetness
The precarious balance of existence.